


Small Frames

by WizardSandwich



Series: Transformers Self-Insert Fics [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Other, Pre-War, but it also sticks to most canon plot points, this is a blatant self-insert fic if you can't tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardSandwich/pseuds/WizardSandwich
Summary: They can't help but wonder if it was ever a good idea to befriend Megatronus.





	Small Frames

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably hot garbage but all my friends say it's fine so uh???

The Pits were incredibly dull once a bot got too used to them. The transition didn’t even take much time. Wizard had only been there for a few stellar cycles, but even they were apathetic to the sounds and smells of injured mechs. Where a bleeding winner being rushed into the too small medical bay would have previously made their tanks churn and frightened them to no end, it now only brought a dull ache.

Urania, however, had been there for far too long. She was quick to put her pede down as the chaos of keeping mechs alive began. There was only a brief glance at the familiar sight of guardmechs wheeling in a gurney before she shoved them out. One of the newer recruits looked practically sick to their tanks as they left.

Wizard didn’t even need to be commanded as they began to pull out tools with practiced, precise movements. The mech on the table didn’t even groan in pain, clearly very used to deep injuries. His sparkchamber was almost visible under his plating and they could only wonder how he was so calm. They ignored the pulse of sympathy in their spark and continued to pull out the necessary tools. It was the only thing they found they could do in a situation like this. The weak did not survive the Pits, whether they were a warrior or a medical officer.

The grey mech wasn’t even put under as Urania began. He had clearly turned off his pain receptors in advance, as he decidedly didn’t react to anything she did. She was quick to make work of sewing the mech back together with practiced ease and a newfound speed that Wizard had never seen before.

Curiosity bubbled under their plating, but they didn’t ask the question sitting on their glossa. Urania could be a harsh master in the best of moments and they would have rather kept their job, as lowly and depraved as it was, as much as it hurt their spark. They had nowhere else to turn to for credits.

Time passed in a quiet lull. Urania demanded simple things of them, but expected them to be fulfilled with ruthless efficiency. It was all Wizard could do to keep with her unrelenting pace.

Finally, Urania stopped. She turned from the both of them, wiping her servos with a dirty cloth. “Keep an optic on him. They’ll have both our helms if their newest attraction offlines. I have to get a patch.”

The demands gave reason to the deeper than usual harshness of her electromagnetic field, snapping like a sparkeater. Her expression was unyieldingly serious, leaving no room for argument, so Wizard only nodded in response.

Urania stepped out of the medical bay without another word, field snapping at theirs in warning. The submission that bubbled to the surface as the action made them feel more than a bit ashamed. They wondered, vaguely, how far she truly would have gone to keep them in line.

The gladiator’s gaze turned to them and their hunched shoulders with an almost morbid looking curiosity. They met his gaze and he did not smile. He optics dimmed. “You’re new,” he said shortly, cautiously.

They thought he was testing the waters, because they would have done the same or remained silent. “Yes,” Wizard responded, “Urania recruited me only a few stellar cycles ago.”

The mech didn’t say anything else. The silence was as awkward as it was stifling. His gaze remained undeterred even as they turned around, carefully trying to find an excuse or distraction. It was the knowledge that he was looking that left the impression of optics on their back. They did not know if he truly continued.

Suddenly, a clattering sound came from behind them. They turned around too fast, almost stumbling over their pedes and barely managing to stay upright. Medical tools covered the floor behind them. Anxiety built in the chassis. “What the frag happened?” Wizard asked, abrupt and almost panicked, to the mech.

Their spark pulsed harshly and they had to take a deep vent to quell it. The mech’s expression was almost analytical as he said, “It would seem that my arm hit one of the tools and the rest only came with it.”

“Frag,” Wizard swore, “Urania will have my helm.”

They were quick to kneel, picking up the tools with desperation and no regard for whether or not they might cut their servos. A scolding from Urania would have felt too much like worthlessness as she knew just how to make it hurt.

The mech slid off the berth quickly in an attempt to help them, but Wizard didn’t allow it. They to sound as stern as possible, they told him, “You’re injured, you don’t get to help.” They paused for a moment before wilting. “Plus, the tools need to be cleaned. Urania won’t care much either way, but I think that they should be.”

It would have been almost a confession of weakness if Wizard didn’t know how rust and other infections spread. The fact that the Pits were less clean only made them want to keep the gladiators as healthy as they could have possibly helped them to be.

The mech’s analysis seemed to have ended as his expression suddenly turned apologetic. “I did this,” he said. “Let me help.”

“You can help me,” Wizard insisted, “by getting back on the medical berth and not letting Urania catch us. Primus knows how angry she’ll be if she does.”

The mech considered for a moment but inevitably followed their orders. Wizard continued to hurriedly place tools into the tray that had come down with them. They didn’t even bother to organize them as they did.

“My designation is Megatronus,” the mech said from his place lying back on the berth.

“Wizard,” they told him as they stood. It felt too much like they were both offering peace. “I thought you gladiators weren’t allowed to take designations?”

They didn’t have to turn to see his grin, “We don’t.”

They should have thought to report it, but they were not malicious. Taking his designation would be far too cruel.

They moved to the counter, turning on the pressurized cleaner, but nothing got to leave their mouth as Urania stepped back into the room, patches in servo. Wizard didn’t turn. Megatronus remained silent. “Wizard,” Urania hissed, tone implying she already knew the answer but that she wanted to hear it herself, “what are you doing?”

“I accidently knocked over a tray, ma’am,” Wizard returned dutifully, “I’m merely cleaning them.”

“Don’t bother,” she huffed, but she didn’t bother to mention a punishment for their perceived stupidity or waste of time. “Get over here and hold the patch.”

Wizard dropped the tool in their servos into the tray, quickly walking over. Urania pressed the patch against Megatronus’ chassis, threatening, “Don’t let it slip or I’ll have your helm.”

Wizard complied, taking Urania’s words seriously. They pressed against the metal and carefully tried to keep it from moving. It was easy until Urania maneuvered around them to get her welder closer to the edge of the patch. The positioning was awkward and the welder pressed uncomfortably against their plating. “Hold.” Urania commanded as she lit the torch.

Wizard didn’t relax until the patch was secured and halfway on. Their servos dropped with only slight hesitation as soon as they knew they were able. Urania only continued to weld and solder the metal into place. It was rough, but no one expected perfection or even decency from a Pits’ medic.

Wizard returned to the counter to clean the tools, meticulously scrubbing the metal with solvent and a rag. The welder made for an oddly soothing background noise. When she finished with him, Urania patted the patch on Megatronus’ chassis lightly. “Hurt any?” she asked gruffly, but flippantly. Megatronus must have shook his head. “Dismissed.”

Behind them, they heard the mech slide off of the berth. His pedesteps echoed across the room until he was at the door and he slipped out, back into the rugged landscape of the coliseum. “Wizard,” Urania called for their attention.

They didn’t bother to turn to her, but acknowledged her all the same, “Yes, medic Urania?”

“You’re working a shift with Neuroplexus. His usual assistant’s out with rust,” she told them. They barely shifted to look over their shoulder, somewhat off put. They had never personally worked with Neuroplexus, but they know he was part of the nightshift.

Their optic ridges furrowed in confusion, “How’d he get it?”

Urania snorted, “Idiot went and played in the sewer system. Serves him right.” She paused before she tacked on, “Your shift starts two joors before the solar cycle is out.”

Her tone left no room for argument. Slumping further over the counter, they knew the cycle would be a long one. They didn’t look forward to any part of it.


End file.
